Page 65 of Hades and Persephone: Keeper of Sins

I can imagine no greater torment. To be so close to the one thing that I require to survive, and live with the knowledge that she could be stolen from me at any moment.

It would drive me to madness. I know, I’m nearly there already and it’s only been weeks. I can only imagine the effect that years of this would have on me. On her. The love I desperately want from her would sour with loathing, darken with hate.

The very thought has my teeth grinding, hands shaking.

“I am a jealous man, Persephone,” I hear myself admit.

She stops moving closer, and I turn to look at her. She sways on her heels, the drink she consumed obviously having gone to her head. Her voice softens. “I was only dancing with him.”

I roll my lips. Then I’m closing the distance between us, towering over her. Her breaths increase, goosebumps pricking her flesh. Tension leeches from my words as I growl, “You were aroused. I could smell it on you.” Her lovely green eyes widen. “I can still smell it on you.” My lip curls as I inhale again, as though to prove my point. “And I can smell him on you, too.”

As I make to turn away, thefire under my flesh flaring again, Persephone catches me. “Don’t—don’t walk away from me.”

Does she truly not know how close to snapping I am?

How dangerous this moment is for her? For me? Our future? I could ruin it all this very moment.

I shutter my eyes, not allowing myself to breathe, lest I scent him on her.

“Persephone,” I warn. “I am trying to keep from doing something I will regret.”

“I don’t understand.”

She truly sounds confused. How can that be?

She gasps when I open my eyes. I know she can see the flames there in the depths of the black. It’s the first time I do nothing to hide it. I want her to see a glimpse of the beast I harbour deep within the human flesh I wear. I want her to know there is more to me—to us—than she currently thinks.

I watch as it happens, the human fragility of her mind fracturing. She shakes her head, pushing away the very possible possibility of what she deems impossible. She blinks fast, her lips parting, eyes casting downward as she stumbles back a step.

I shove the flames down, waiting. When she looks back up at me, raw confusion twists her expression. She’s excusing away what she knows she saw, her human mind incapable of accepting the fact of sight when her mind is incapable of giving explanation for what she sees.

“I don’t know what is happening.” Her voice issmall. I suddenly feel desperate to reassure her, but I am at war with myself.

And his scent still clings to her.

I put space between us. It’s necessary, even as it pains me.

“I am not a man who shares, Persephone.” At least, I’m no longer a man who shares. “When I touched you last night, I thought I made it clear that you were mine.”

“That’s not—I mean—I’m leaving in a few months.”

I almost laugh.She won’t be leaving.

I pin her with my black gaze, daring her to challenge me now. “While you are here, you are mine.”

I think she might argue, but she surprises me when she agrees, “Okay.”

“You will not allow another man to touch you. Not at all.”

“Okay.”

I steal a breath—finally—and taste him on the air. I growl and her eyes widen. She wets her lips nervously, her voice painfully small as she asks, “You can really smell him on me, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How is that possible?”

When I don’t reply for long moments, simply holding my breath to hold the reins of my slipping sanity, Persephonegives me a small nod. She turns away from me, looking indecisive as she stands between the door to escape and me.

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